i hate your eyes
i hate how evidently they lack sleep
i hate the fact that it makes you look cute it makes me sick
i hate the way you pronounce words
i hate that it echoes when i read my notes
i hate your kindness, i hate your smile
i hate it when i actually start to try
to move past it and make a fresh start
then you’re there suddenly leaving a fresh mark
i hate that you know i like you
and the power it has over me
i hate it when you text me just when you feel like it
i hate to convince myself every **** time
it’s going to be the last
because it most certainly feels like it
i hate the impatience i feel because i have no right
i hate the butterflies because they’re the bad kind
i hate that they consume me, rush through me
and i lose my focus, severely
and (*sighs) i hate that i might like it too
i hate that you told me we could form some connection
i hate that i believed in it
i hate not knowing why
all of a sudden there’s a change of tone
when last night I could have sworn
you shared a delicate, intricate piece of you. why?
i hate to swim with questions
did i do something wrong, did i overdo it
i hate that i don’t know what goes in your mind
i hate that once in a while i imagine the possibility
but most of all, i hate the fact that you’re just plain nice to everybody
and there’s nothing, special in me
i hate that i’d have to see you again soon
i admit i’m afraid because i hate
that what i wrote to you, will still be true
i hate that i’d have to pretend all over again
it’s daunting to me
but it’s going to be just an easy task for you
i hate that you’ve become a pretty big chunk in my phase of life
and i hate lastly, that i’m just an insignificant detail to you